


Five times Jamie threatened to quit his job

by dafna



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dafna/pseuds/dafna
Summary: Correspondence from media strategist James McDonald, 2007 to 2012.





	Five times Jamie threatened to quit his job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ailcia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailcia/gifts).



**5 January 2007** ( _printed out on No. 10 notepaper and hand-delivered_ )

Mr Malcolm Tucker  
Office of Communications  
No. 10 Downing Street

This is to inform you that I am resigning my post as senior press officer, effective immediately. I regret that I am unable to assist with the transition to the Tom Davis leadership but I look forward to your undoubted success.

Warm regards,

James McDonald

cc SC

P.S. Sam, I don’t think he’s serious this time either, but you never know. Add it to the collection, anyway.

 

 **5 January 2007** ( _via email_ )

to: [mtucker@yahoo.com](mailto:mtucker@yahoo.com)  
from: [jmcdonald@mac.com](mailto:jmcdonald@mac.com)  
subject: re: I’m waiting

I fucking sent it, you mad bastard. Stop fucking me around and go back to skull fucking that coked-up Nursery class of nutter-loving Tom freaks. I hear electric enemas are nice. If you get to the pub before I’ve pulled, you owe me a pint.

 

* * *

 

 **16 July 2008** ( _via email_ )

to: [mtucker@yahoo.com](mailto:mtucker@yahoo.com)  
from: [jamiem-73@gmail.com](mailto:jamiem-73@gmail.com)  
subject: fuck off

You’re a cunt. I don’t mean that in the good way. If you think I’m actually going to spend six months in fucking Cardiff helping unelectable cunts tie their fucking shoelaces you need your fucking head examined. You could get a referral from your friend Mr Frozen Smile Nutty Bar, which by the way was an excellent joke and it’s not my fucking fault that hack was standing behind us. Tell that emotionally fragile china fucking teapot you work for I’m on leave as of now.

 

 **16 July 2008** ( _via email)_

to: [mtucker@yahoo.com](mailto:mtucker@yahoo.com)  
from: [jamiem-73@gmail.com](mailto:jamiem-73@gmail.com)  
subject: re: fuck off

I don’t fucking know, do I. Maybe up Inverness for a bit. I’ll send a postcard.

 

* * *

 

 **12 April 2009** ( _via email_ )

Mr Malcolm Tucker  
Office of Communications  
No. 10 Downing Street

This is to inform you that I have accepted a position with a consultancy in the United States and will be leaving my post as senior press officer in four weeks time.

Warm regards,

James McDonald

cc SC

P.S. Sam, make him read this. I’ve sent two emails and heard nothing back.

 

 **12 April 2009** ( _via email_ )

to: [mtucker@yahoo.com](mailto:mtucker@yahoo.com)  
from: [jamiem-73@gmail.com](mailto:jamiem-73@gmail.com)  
subject: re: you traitorous shit

Don’t be such a dramatic fucking wanker, it’s just a job in New York. Or did we actually get married that night in Aberdeen and you just never got around to fucking telling me?

Now that you’ve stopped the Trappist fucking monk routine, two things: one, poach Isla from Transport. She’s bored off her head and she’s like a younger us, only with tits. And more swearing. Two, get a fucking gmail address, you look like a paedo with that yahoo account.

 

 **20 May 2009** ( _via text_ )

Nicola fucking Murray. Jesus Malcolm you could just say you miss me. You don’t have to actually self harm.

 

* * *

 

 **13 March 2010** ( _via text_ )

Let me know when you want me back for the general election. I promise to only make you suck me off once, for old time’s sake. I cannot wait to never see this fucking office again. If one more flat-voiced cunt calls me English I will go on a fucking killing spree.

 

 **8 April 2010** ( _via text_ )

Don’t pretend you don’t need me there to prop up Tom the Twat.

 

 **15 April 2010** ( _via text_ )

Fuck off then.

 

 **8 May 2010** ( _via text_ )

Congratulations on losing to an Eton wind-up toy and a Liberal Democrat. If the shame gets too much, send me the Lulu albums before swallowing anything.

 

* * *

 

_Interlude: Correspondence from the campaign trail_

 

 **20 December 2011** ( _postcard with “Welcome to Iowa” on the front)_

Greetings from my frozen hell. You know me, I see a giant yellow corn dildo on a postcard and I think, what’s Malc up to? Hugs and kisses. Jamie.

 

 **5 January 2012** ( _postcard with an outline of New Hampshire on the front_ )

I checked, the state really does fucking look like this. Jesus.

 

 **18 January 2012** ( _postcard with two palmetto trees on the front_ )

American elections make fucking test cricket look like Formula One. At least it’s warmer here.

 

 **5 February 2012** ( _postcard with the Gateway Arch on the front_ )

It never ends. Compared to this inbred fuckhead, Nicola is fucking Disraeli, but apparently that’s an advantage here.

 

**7 March 2012** _(via email)_

to: [malcmcdeath@gmail.com](mailto:malcmcdeath@gmail.com)  
from: [jamiem-73@gmail.com](mailto:jamiem-73@gmail.com)  
subject: free at last

Thank fuck that’s over. Back to flogging cigarettes to kiddies or something else less morally bankrupt. Though I gather from Sam that you’re now causing nurses to top themselves so clearly I need to up my fucking game.

 

* * *

 

 **20 June 2012** ( _via email)_

to: [malcmcdeath@gmail.com](mailto:malcmcdeath@gmail.com)  
from: [jamiem-73@gmail.com](mailto:jamiem-73@gmail.com)  
subject: a KitKat??

“No one dies.” Excellent fucking start to the Goolding inquiry there. What’s next, “I was only following orders?”

 

 **28 June 2012** ( _via text)_

Sam sent me your new number. Is it too soon to make a joke about leaking it?

 

 **5 July 2012** ( _via text)_

Jesus, Malc. Hope you had your solicitor on speed dial.

 

 **20 July 2012** ( _via text)_

Don’t do anything fucking stupid.

 

 **2 August 2012** ( _via text)_

FFS, at least call Sam back.

 

 **3 August 2012** ( _via text)_

Bastard.

 

 **August 4, 2012** ( _via email)_

to: emichaels@claybrownassoc  
cc: hr@claybrownassoc  
from: jmcdonald@claybrownassoc  
subject: my departure

Ted,

Thanks for being so understanding about my family situation. This is to formally let you know that I am resigning from Clay, Brown and Associates, effective September 1.

Regards,

Jamie

 

* * *

 

_Postscript_

**15 November 2012** ( _letter postmarked from Glasgow)_

Malcolm Tucker  
#FO4859  
HMP Ford  
BN18 0BX

Dear Malcolm,

The Queen apparently frowns on swearing in her majesty’s prisons, so I will be using this archaic paper-based means of communication to practice avoiding any terms of … oh fuck it, I can’t imagine anyone making it past that sentence to check.

Sam says you’re thinner, but it’s only been two fucking weeks so I think she’s projecting. 90 days isn’t bad, really. Long enough for street cred, short enough you’ll be out by Lent. I wonder if practicing not swearing in letters would count for Lent?

I expect a full report when you’re out, complete with comparisons to that bank holiday weekend in Glasgow. Speaking of both home and drunken wastes of skin, someone from Dan Miller’s office left a message at my mum’s. I assume they’re looking for the slightly less tainted (and/or jailed) version of you, but I’m not that desperate. Yet, anyway.

I actually have a proposition for you in that regard, but not sure Sam will be able to get me in to see you, so it may have to wait until Lent as well. Here’s a hint though: Wouldn’t it be nice to be shot of all those fucking English wankers for good? Nicola (the other one) says hello, by the way.

Yours,

Jamie


End file.
